Pre-conceived cooter
The tricked out raggedly low rider
Sedan with the booming nigga
Rap of hating whitey pulled up
Rather rapidly to the dock
Where three black teens with
A package wrapped in a grocery
Plastic headed toward me
I gave out a kind of inner groan
For what was to transpire
When all they wanted to do
Was release the box turtle they
Found on the road
They asked me if I got paid
For what I did
Got back in the hate whitey booming
Low riding two door and were gone
Somewhere a land turtle down below
Was trying to figure how so suddenly
His world went from crossing the road
To escaping from drowning .
I just quizzically said
Yes nigga
Why ain’t whitey paid?
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